


bullfight

by fishysama



Series: goretober 2019!!! [27]
Category: 88rising
Genre: Accidents, Animal Death, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Gen, Goretober, Goretober 2019, Gun Violence, Guro, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Inspired by Art, Inspired by Music
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-03 22:53:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21187316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishysama/pseuds/fishysama
Summary: goretober day 27: rest / break / catch updayand when we feel alive, i know she'll let me go.(inspired by theswum idwwmt remix visuals+this)





	bullfight

Big cameras, flashy lighting, a song played in repeated segments through big speakers: a cluster of things that weren’t very common for a ranch but had become so in George’s life. He was surprised to see that the company wanted to shoot a music video for such a small remix, but he wasn’t complaining. He did have a liking for the song and found the original visuals to be quite aesthetically pleasing: psychedelic pinks and blues and purples, bulls colliding their horns together, and children, their censored eyes, watching contently. But, his opinion aside, it wasn’t the most popular song.

The idea was quite similar to the original visuals: he’d be dressed as a matador— the photoshoot on his Twitter and Insta were quite well received— and pose among some real, living bulls. Bulls that George had a mild fear of, but was certain that nothing would or could go wrong with them. There would be a ton of cameramen and directors and hopefully a real matador around the set, so an accident was rather unlikely. He had pulled rather dangerous stunts in the past too, so he didn’t have any worries.

That is, until it did go wrong.

“Stop!!”

“Stop the cameras, Jesus!”

For whatever reason, the visual director thought it would be a good idea to have George be very, _ very  _ close to a bull’s horns without any protection and have him taunt the poor creature for a shot. Turns out, that wasn’t a good idea. In retrospect, that was painfully obvious.

He had been impaled, gored, and a whole ton of other different things. Another good decision on the team’s part: they didn’t have an ambulance or nurse if there were accidents on set. Not to mention, the set was a ranch in fuck-all, middle of nowhere Texas.

So George lays, intestines visible and torn up, ribs broken, unable to speak due to shock, on the dusty, dirt ground. He stares at the sun, breathless. People gather around him like rubberneckers, staring but too afraid to do anything. They speak reassuring phrases that George cannot comprehend. He doesn’t, somehow, feel the pain, a pain that should be worse than anything he’s ever felt. His eyes water, he winces, but he feels nothing.

Everyone around him seems to feel it though, they vomit, scream, panic, five people call the police at the same time. Empathy to the highest degree.

George hears a gunshot and feels the bull hit the ground, a thud and heavy vibration, but does not see the death, the death earned by the bull’s instincts and his own, stupid faults. So, the false matador only sighs and wipes the tears from his face with his sprained wrist.

So he and the bull lay dying, equally dirty and equally wrong. He thinks destiny, just the word “destiny,” the way it sounds in his head and feels in his mouth, staring at his day's sun, before closing his eyes.


End file.
